Honor and Glory
by SadameHime
Summary: Malkyn Amell would go places she never dreamed of going. Loghain would go somewhere he had been before, and had prayed to never go to again. Maric followed suit, to say good-bye. And Duncan.. Well, Duncan was just along for the ride.
1. The Glory Proving

AN: Juliana Amell is the F! Amell in the game. This takes place two years before Maric's death, seven years before the beginning of Origins. Yet another little idea that has been bugging me, but I like this one better than the last one. Feels like the character is more fleshed out, even in this beginning chapter.

* * *

It had been a long time ago when they had taken her sister.

Her father, Bann Devon Amell, had been so shocked to know that his daughter was a mage that he was stricken with illness and nearly died. All he had was her after that, little Malkyn Amell. And oh, how he babied her, prettied her, and kept her all for his own.

It didn't matter that just outside the gates, the rebellion against the Usurper raged so that his own men were torn between two sides. It didn't matter than Malkyn would have to get married not long after it was all over. With all the death and loss outside of their home, the one child to have escaped the curse of magic would never know, nor truly grow on her own.

Everyday a maid would wake her, put bows in her long brown hair and treat her like she was higher class than she truly was. Even as a child, she knew that this was all too much and could not possibly find enjoyment in it if being pampered was to be her routine life. In time, Malkyn grew to hate it.

She was twenty when her father decided that she would marry Bann Ian, whose lands bordered their own. She had met him several times, and every time could only look at his rotting teeth behind those chapped lips of his. Maker be damned if her father truly thought she would bite her insecurities about the man down and marry him. The little lady inside of her was afraid, and disgusted…

So disgusted that in the dead of night, she stole her father's coin and blade and ran out into the wilderness without a second thought.

It had been fifteen years since that day. In that time, her sister had escaped the Circle, left a little babe in her hands, and ran out into the Brecilian Woods to raise a second child. Malkyn raised that little girl during her travels until it turned out she had magic of her own, and little Juliana Amell was taken away to the prison her mother had escaped only ten years ago years ago.

In fifteen years, Malkyn had learned the ways of the blade by fighting for survival. She had done it all by herself, and with every passing day lost touch with the daddy's girl that had been fostered in her soul. She had seen Orzammar and fought in the Proving in the name of King Endrin. She had crossed the Frostback mountains, had seen Val Royeaux, and sang the Chant of the Light with Chantry Members in the Grand Cathedral.

And what did she have to show for it? The breastplate the new Paragon, Branka, had made for her, a skin of Dwarven Ale given to her by none other than Oghren, and a sack of coin just good enough to get her room and board until the next Proving in a matter of days. After that, she'd probably start wandering again. It was the only thing good that the thirty-five year old, former Noblewoman could do with her life anymore.

That didn't bother her one bit, or at least it didn't usually. There had been all of this talk about children among a few of the Dwarven women that worked the only tavern in Orzammar that could house surfacers. Nose deep in a cup of ale, and she still felt this sort of sting in her stomach that reminded her that life had never kindled there and probably never would.

Malkyn was happy when they quit talking about children and started talking about 'distinguished guests' from the surface that had been invited by King Endrin to view the Proving. Since this news, a few other warriors from the surface had shown up, hoping to prove their mettle to whomever was going to come. It had damn well better be the King himself coming to the Proving, or Malkyn was going to get violent with the men that kept telling her, ' the little girl should go back home to her husband and her babies.'

When the arrival of the distinguished guests was announced, some of the warriors that came to fight were kicked out of their rooms to make way. Malkyn was glad she was not one of them, and she was ecstatic with this knowledge when three men and a woman came into the inn, all human and all well dressed.

The woman was, of course, unarmed. She had blond hair like the sun, but wore it in some crazy braids that just made Malkyn laugh to herself behind her drink. She seemed high strung and untouchable, and the untouchable part was worthy of respect.

A young man walked next to her, wearing what was clearly ceremonial armor and not meant for battle at all. He looked nervous and edgy, and he looked like the older man in the golden armor ahead of them, King Maric…. That must have meant that the boy was Cailan, the woman next to him Anora Mac Tir, his betrothed, and the man with black hair was Teryn Loghain.

Distinguished guests indeed.

Loghain felt the eyes of all of the warriors on him, and it only made him tense. Any one of them could be there to harm Maric or even Cailan, but none were armed. The one that caught his attention fastest was the woman with her feet on the table, three quarters of the way through a pint and chewing on a stick of jerky. She was out of place among all of those men, wearing leather leggings beneath a skirt she didn't really seem comfortable with, tied up in a plate corset as if it were the only thing standing between those men and her body.

She saw him looking at her with amber eyes, and she just nodded behind her glass. It seemed she knew who they were better than the others in the room. The smile on her face was one of thanks. What could she possibly be thanking them for? Getting other humans to try and participate in the Provings so that she wasn't afraid she'd step on her opponents?

When they reached their rooms, Anora found herself flanked by two guards, guards that would remain outside of her door at all times, unless they were following her around all of Orzammar. Each of them sweated uncomfortably in the Maker Forsaken heat from the forges and the lava. All at once, they both questioned how Loghain and Maric managed it.

"Who was that woman, Maric? In the breastplate." Loghain questioned as he followed his King into his room.

It was a sort of instinct after so many years of service to make sure he had made himself comfortable first, and in the meantime, it was always Maric who made small-talk. Loghain, however, couldn't simply let the matter of that out of place woman rest. He had to know more, if only so he could worry more about Maric's safety.

"You saw her too, then? I imagine she is the combatant that Endrin had written to me about, Malkyn Amell, Bann Devon's long lost girl. Looks a bit like him in the face, but I imagine she got her hair and her eyes from her mother, Maker rest that woman's soul."

"Why must we be the ones to come here and retrieve her then, if Endrin wishes her taken home? Is that why he asked for us?" Loghain said.

"He didn't ask us to take her home, he merely remarked about her skills. I suppose he does want us to take her away, draft her into the Fereldan army or something. I'm told that she hasn't had her feet grounded for fifteen years, since she ran from her father," Maric wiped his brow with a damp cloth. The heat was getting to him too.

"And aside from that," he continued, " all of us being here is a sign of faith in the Dwarven people and whatnot."

"Did you tell Bann Devon that his precious Malkyn had gotten herself involved in the Dwarven Provings?'

"No, Loghain, no I didn't. He would've made a scene, even after all of these years. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't dropped dead yet."

And if Baan Devon did happen to drop dead… well.. A lot of people in Ferelden would be happy to see the senile man kick the bucket. He hadn't been much help during the rebellion, and even though he maintained a decent reign over his people, he was not well-liked if merely for the fact that he was truly getting old. Too old to be a Bann, anyway.

He was well respected and liked in all the times before his wife's death. She passed on not long after Malkyn had ran from home, and when all of this stress did not kill the Bann, it took its toll on his behavior. He could still govern, but he was not in the least bit fit for court anymore.

"Do you intend to talk to her after the Proving, about coming home?" Loghain made his true point abundantly, and blatantly, clear.

" I don't know."

And that was the truth. Maric had no intentions of retrieving Bann Devon's daughter from her rag-tag life on the road. It was a well known fact that she had been on all sorts of little adventures since she had taken off with every single sovereign in the Bann's estate. If he had not sent for her yet himself, then surely he did not mean to ever see her again, and there was no reason for him, or anyone else, to worry about it.

The following morning, Malkyn worried now that the drink had worn off. She saw the King and his whole company enter the Chamber to the Proving with King Endrin and his family from her perch. With her back against the door to the combatant's chambers, she watched them exchange traditional, dull, and boring pleasantries. Loghain's little girl seemed to flourish in all of it, and no doubt existed in her mind that she would be a good Queen to Cailan.

What surprised her, however, was when she saw a face that she was familiar with join the crowd. Duncan, a Grey Warden, had come up to the King with a great smile on his face. They must have known each other she surmised, and she tried not to think on it too much. If that man approached her one more time about joining the Wardens she would give him a good punch to the face.

In all actuality, she was a bit confused about why he hadn't tried conscripting her yet…

"Time to get down into the chambers, little lady. No time to be staring at the nobility now," an old Dwarven voice called to her from just behind the door.

That was the voice of Gimerl, a Proving Veteran and the man responsible for her ever taking part at all. He came around the corner of the door she was leaning on, dragging her away by her arm. She grunted in protest, but it was no use. The man had the grip of a Stone Golem.

Gimerl's beard and hair were graying, and sometimes the young fighters would call him snow-beard behind his back. He knew it, but didn't seem to care. He would even taunt them after whipping them into shape in the arena by saying," Ol' Snow-beard just put you in your place, lads!" And maybe, just maybe, that's what Malkyn liked about him.

He released her into her small room, walking away with a triumphant smirk on his face. He gave her a nod just as the door closed, leaving her to prepare.

It took her no time to check the securities on her breastplate and toss away the skirt she wore over her leather leggings. It was her way of feeling a bit more feminine, the last thread that she tried to hold onto as a wandering woman. She shrugged a stray thought away, and began to secure her boots. They were a bit worse for the wear, but she didn't have the money to replace them.

_Oh well_, she thought, _I guess I'll replace them after this batch of rounds are over._

Malkyn was the first to fight. The twin daggers felt warm in her hands, alight with the adrenaline of battle. She had never faced the opponent that looked upon her now, a stocky dwarf with a big head of black hair and a beard to rival Oghren's.

The announcer above began as he always did, " This is the Glory Proving, fought under the eyes of the Paragons of Orzammar to honor Branka, our new Paragon. First is Vok of the Warrior Caste. Some of you might remember when he faced his brother, and emerged victorious after a long, heated battle."

"Today, he fights the Champion of King Endrin, Favorite of Branka, and a veteran to the Glory Proving, Malkyn Amell of Amaranthine. You should remember her first battle against Dhag the Bloodletter, when she came back from a fierce blow to her back only to win it all."

She exchanged no words with the warrior, as it was no longer her way. He didn't seem to be the type to pre-bloodshed chatter either.

"The first warrior to fall is vanquished. Fight!"

Both of them came at the other holding no bars. The dwarf called Vok brought his great axe down on her without warning. She was barely able to get out of the way to swing the blade in her dominate hand at his right arm. His plate armor deflected the blow and left her at an utter loss for the moment as he swung his axe over his head.

She could not duck, only bounce herself backward. Her body threatened to topple over as her feet landed in an awkward position upon the grooved surface of the battlefield. This seemed to please Vok very much, and he came after her again with a strike that made the very air sing.

Malkyn allowed herself to fall back, blade of the axe catching the stone between her spread legs. She fought to get up quickly and tossed herself at the dwarf before he could recover his axe from its stony prison. The sheer force of her body coming against his armor knocked him over, and she brought her blades up to rectify this difficult battle.

Vok thrust his fist at her chest with a paralyzing strong blow, knocking the air clean out of her body. He took this opportunity to toss her away, and her daggers flew several feet into the air as she hit the ground and tried to regain her breath.

It was looking grim for her, and Anora couldn't understand why someone like her would want to live such a life in the first place. She had listened to the Ladies of the court talk about how she was before she ran away, how much promise she had. To the future Queen of Ferelden, all of that so called promise seemed like a lie. How could any woman who had grown up among nobility become the sort of woman she saw wriggling around on the floor of the Proving for breath?

It was a question that she had no answers to. Her father, on the other hand, saw the change of Malkyn Amell as simply a child's struggle to assert their freedom and live their own life. That is just what Bann Devon's child had done: carved out a meager traveler's life on the road and made a few friends along the way. He wondered if she did these things for some sort of cause, or simply because she could. The Grey Warden next to him, should he voice his thoughts, would be able to answer with certainty.

Malkyn Amell only did something because she could and wanted to. Duncan had learned that the hard way.

Malkyn almost seemed aware of the doubt hanging in the air around the human nobles that had came to watch the Proving. She could feel King Endrin rooting for her silently in his seat next to King Maric, and she heard Branka shouting for her to get her lazy ass off the ground.

The dwarves were her kind of people, and she never believed it more than when she was on that stone caught between a rock and a hard place. If you want honor and glory, you had to work for it. Maybe your birth had something to do with it, but even the highest noble could go casteless in time.

She rolled away when Vok came to strike her with his recovered axe. Still fighting for her breath, but aware of the situation enough that she knew trying to come at him with her daggers wasn't going to work. He closed the distance like a wild beast, roaring with such ferocity that Malkyn had a rare moment of genuine fear during the Proving. Loss felt close as her mind raced to find a proper way to take him down. Could she manage it with her bare hands if even her daggers were of no use?

Malkyn decided that the only way to bring him down was to be agile, avoid his attacks just as she had been. However, she needed to find a weak point. Anything. Maybe a crack in his armor to get her dagger into, should she retrieve one. A bare spot in his armor.

The process of jump-stepping out of the way of his attacks came until he realized that she was just pulling his leg and trying to think all the while. Vok glared something fierce at her past the metal of his helmet. He brought his axe around again, but this time, he swung it at her with the blades horizontal. The brunt of the impact knocked her off her feet and many feet across the ground. There was a cheer from those that did not support her.

She rolled over as Vok stepped toward her slowly.

"Come on now, Malkyn. Are you too woman to fight me proper? Get off your ass!"

She sneered at his comment, looking around on the ground, hopeful to find one of her blades not far away.

It turned out that one of her daggers was a short sprint away from her, and if she hustled, she might make it before Vok brought out the big guns again.

Malkyn was on her feet and off like a shot in what seemed like only a few very short seconds. Vok tried to burst into a run as well, but his steps were not as long, nor his strides quite as quick. She found the blade just in time to turn on him and give him a good hard stab in the abdomen.

"Gimme my money, Hespith!" Ah, Branka's always necessary cheer of winning a bet..

Vok dropped his axe, and submitted. Malkyn had won her first Proving match of the day. As it turned out, there would be a lot more proving and a lot less fighting in her future.


	2. The Call of Duty

AN: Ugh. Its so darn hot where I live, and its really hard to get the creative juices flowing when typing makes you sweat. A 111 heat index is insane, and I don't even live in the Southwest. This heat is truly madness. This is a fairly short chapter, but I promise that the next one will be longer.

* * *

The letter in his hands virtually burned him. Ser Tybalt Ashdown would give his own life to not be the one carrying such grave news to one that certainly didn't want to hear it. The whole hike from Amell Castle on the very edge of the Arling of Amaranthine had left him tired, weak, and sure that his arrival would not be welcome to anyone but himself.

He was the youngest Knight to Devon Amell, a simple farm boy who rose through the ranks on the deaths of others and the rescue of the Bann himself. Now, he was the messenger to deliver word of his death to his only living relative, and the only hope Devon's soul had in keeping his own Bloodline in his own castle. He feared not only facing the lady, but the knowledge that he might not have a true job by the time all of this was over.

It was not common knowledge that Devon Amell had passed on since the King, his son, and the Teyrn of Gwaren and his own child left for Orzammar, the same place Tybalt entered now. He wondered if he might see them there while he searched for Malkyn, and perhaps pass it on to them. They would need to know, after all.. Wouldn't they? Perhaps that was only a thought to distract himself from the idea that his mission was one that weighed on him heavily, despite how simple it was.

_She will be fighting in the Provings, Tybalt. Go to Malkyn, and give her this letter. You will be in her service then._ The final words he had heard from the mouth of his Commander were racing through his mind time and time again, like a song that one can't shake away.

Bann Devon had been something like a second father to him, and Tybalt would be forever grateful for everything that he had done for him. He had his own grieving to do, in all reality, but the weight of duty did better to keep dark thoughts down than he would have thought. He was glad for that, probably for the first time in his life.

At least he knew where to start, and his feet carried him there so quickly he scarcely realized he had arrived. The loud, approving cheers of those present to watch the blood sport carried across the whole of Orzammar's main quarter. It was this that lead Ser Tybalt to the place where he would find his Commander's child.

The ceiling was higher than he expected for a Dwarven building, but he didn't know much about them in the first place. He hadn't imagined Orzammar to _really_ be inside of a mountain. He hadn't thought that the stone would be hollowed out so high or carved so well. The main hall of the Proving was just another thing he hadn't expected, empty of all but one: a stocky dwarf with a full white beard, leaning against a door that surely lead to the combatants chambers.

"Excuse me, Ser Dwarf, I have a letter for a Malkyn Amell. I understand that she is competing today?…" Tybalt approached slowly, and the dwarf he spoke to eyed him curiously.

This dwarf was Grimel, the same one that had gathered Malkyn and brought her down to her Proving match. He was surprised to see some other human whelp coming down into his place asking for her. It had been awhile since a measly, scrawny man had came seeking an audience with the great Malkyn Amell, Human among Dwarves and Lady of the Blade.. Or at least that's what some of them had called her.

"You don't look like any boyfriend the little lady's ever brought to the Proving before, so I'll let cha through. If she thinks you're just there to pull her skirt over her eyes, tell her Ol' Snowbeard said you're okay," Grimel pointed to the door just next to him, as if okaying Tybalt's passage.

Underneath his regulation helmet, Tybalt blushed profusely. He had a wife, and surely this Malkyn Amell was not such a beauty that every man who came to the combatant's chambers had such a thought in his mind. He had a wife. He had responsibilities and reasons for being there.

Ser Tybalt entered the large room outside of the small combatant's chambers just in time to see Malkyn entering from her latest bout. She was the sweaty, battle-hardened picture of the Battle-maidens that his mother used to speak of so highly. She was likely just that sort of woman, except the maiden thing. He doubted a woman that beautiful in her thirties would remain chaste..

He stepped forward with duty in mind, and spoke with practiced authority.

"Would you happen to be Lady Amell?" He questioned.

Malkyn stopped dead in her tracks, eying the man curiously as she chuckled, "I think 'Lady' is taking it a bit to far, but yes. I am an Amell. Do you have something for me, Ser Knight?"

"I do, actually. It is a letter from your father."

Those words struck something inside of her that put more tension in her back than even the sharpest blunt weapon strike could ever hope to. She feared the contents as she stepped forward to accept it. Tybalt reluctantly gave it to her. He knew what was inside, and he did not want to see a lady cry.

_Dearest Malkyn,_

_I resign myself to the fact that in trying to shield you from the very thing that took your sister and your mother from us, I was a terrible father. _

_You were like your mother even as a little child, so free spirited and adventurous. I would have to chase you down myself before anyone would even know where on the castle grounds you had gone… Do you remember hiding in your mother's rose garden after Selene was taken?_

_It was then, when I saw you crying as if your little heart had been torn out of your body that I decided to protect you. I failed, and I am sorry. I should never have tried to make you something that you simply weren't. My little Malkyn was never to be a court flower. You were meant to be the rose on the battlefield, and I know that is where you are now._

_I have been in correspondence with King Endrin of Orzammar since I heard of your glory in the Provings. I am proud of you, and your mother in the next world sings her praises of your progress. It is with all the pride in my heart that I tell you my lands are yours now, as my death is so close that the Black Herald sings songs into my ears._

_By the time this letter reaches you, I shall surely be dead. Ser Tybalt, the courier who delivered this to you, shall remain at your side until you come to Denerim and stake your claim. At that point, his fate in your service is of your own choosing. _

_I love you, my darling daughter. Please do not think that all these years of no contact were out of contempt and disgrace. I have never been so honored in my life than I have been to be your father._

_With love,_

_Devon Amell_

Malkyn raised a gloved hand to her face not to wipe sweat away, but to cover her mouth in what Tybalt knew was disbelief. His wife had the same habit with every bit of good or bad news he ever brought her. It was not his place to offer any sort of comfort, so the Knight crossed his arms behind his back and stood at attention, waiting for some kind of order or reaction. It came faster than he thought it would.

"Ser Tybalt then?… Come with me to the Surfacer's Inn. I need to pack my things so that we may go to Court and reaffirm my claim to my father's lands." She spoke with the voice of a seasoned soldier and noblewoman all the sudden. The playful tone he had noted before was gone.

And it would remain so until she found some kind of closure.

Malkyn abandoned the Proving without a single word to anyone but Grimel. He seemed to understand just by the look on her face that something terrible had happened, and he chose not to question. It was perhaps the kindest thing that dwarf had ever done, to simply let her go on her way.

Malkyn did not cry until she reached her room and shut Ser Tybalt outside. They came slowly at first as she dropped the letter on her bed and began packing her meager things. The cries that wretched her body dropped her to her knees, and she prayed that the Knight couldn't hear her.

There she was, the very girl that had taken all of her father's money and ran away just to get out of the life he tried to make for her,mourning him as if he had been her closest friend. _How do you not mourn your father's death?_ She asked herself._ How do you simply let that pass?_

During her weeping, she thought on the good memories she had of him. There were more than she cared to admit. She remembered times when he held her and told her stories about her mother. There were times when he would walk with her in the forest when it was safe, and talk to her about anything she wanted to. That was the man she thought of now, not the man that sheltered her like something fragile and fleeting.

She swore that she felt his hand in her own, felt her breath against her ear as he whispered it was okay. There was no one there to console her, at least no one that she would allow. Her words to the Knight were specifically not to enter until she told him to. He did not seem like the type to disobey an order, even when he heard his mistress weeping inconsolably.

Outside of the room, he was there worrying about her. Tybalt took his helmet off in the heat that permeated all of Orzammar, shaking his head to let his long black hair out if its prison and hoping that the woman he heard crying would be alright. Somehow, he knew she would. She seemed stronger than he.

He was there for what felt like hours before a small group came down the hall: the King and his company. There was a connection of gazes that sparked recognition, and it was Maric that passed up his room to approach the knight.

"Ser Tybalt, right? Bann Devon's second? Why are you here?… Has something happened?"

"Your Majesty.. I'm afraid that Bann Devon passed away a few days after you left for Orzammar. I have came to retrieve Lady Malkyn so that she may take his place in their Bannorn," Tybalt said evenly.

Maric looked back at Loghain, a silent exchange going on that Tybalt couldn't tap into. Loghain gave him a knowing nod, turning to bark orders at some of the Royal Guards that had been with them.

"I suppose a Landsmeet must be called to debate the Right of Succession. Arl Howe will certainly like to put it up before the whole country, and not just his Arling…"

"Do you intend to speak on her behalf, your Majesty?" The Knight shifted uncomfortably. It was truly not his place to question his King in such a way.

"I believe I might… Ah, that must be her now."

True to Maric's word, Malkyn emerged from her room with a stuffed pack, red eyes, and wet cheeks. Her voice was shaky as she spoke to Tybalt.

"Lets go, before we waste anymore sunlight."

She said not a word to those in the hall way, shoving her way past even the King. He did not protest, but simply watched her go. Tybalt nodded apologies to everyone from Maric to Anora as he followed after her. He secured his helmet as he raced down the stairs, trying not to let the Lady out of his sight.

"I see the inevitable has finally come to pass," Loghain said.

"Indeed. Now all there is left to do is see how she handles things when her right to the land is brought to debate. Any noble within a few miles of her father's Bannorn is going to go grabbing at shadows trying to convince her to step down, or to convince Arl Howe to pass the land to them." Maric sighed. Land battles were all that plagued the Landsmeets anymore.


	3. Home

_My sweet innocent child_

_How can I explain_

_How I hear nature cry_

_For mercy._

_How the greed and power_

_Set the rules for you and me_

_Why we destroy and torture_

_Out of greed._

_I wish I could give you_

_Something else._

_I wish I could give you_

_Something else._

_- Innocent Child by Arcana_

I recently put a one shot for Cullen up called Malleus Maleficarum. It will be relevant in this series at a later date, but the inspiration hit me the other day to do it now, so I did. I quite enjoyed writing it. Also, if anyone can tell me where I got some of these names and guess correctly, they'll get kudos.

* * *

Malkyn approached the small stable just outside of Orzammar's gates, intent on getting out of there as fast as possible. It was best to leave and get on her way before she changed her mind and decided to drown her sorrows in Tapster's Tavern. It sounded real good as she climbed atop her horse and ignored the Knight that struggled after her.

"Lady Amell.. Please, listen to me!.. I do not have a horse…" Tybalt sighed. With each word, his voice had fallen closer to silence.

"Yet somehow you managed to get to Orzammar from my father's castle not a full day after the King when they left Denerim two days before my father's death? Did you sprint halfway here?" Malkyn spoke with contempt.

The Knight was not hurt by her tone of voice," Traveling alone is much faster than when you have a whole party with you, my lady… But yes, I did run partway."

"Then follow close. If you grow tired, let me know and I shall let you ride for a time. Gale is a good horse, she won't mind."

Malkyn strapped her bag to the saddle, and urged the horse forward at a slow pace. She turned her head over her shoulder to look out at Orzammar one more time, taking in the stone against the backdrop of the snow and the trees. She was going to miss it, and she made a mental note to write every single one of the dwarves that she would miss.. And maybe, never see again.

They rode down the Frostback Mountains with only a few hours of daylight left before they would be forced to camp. Tybalt grew tired quickly, but never admitted it until Malkyn forced him to ride. He was thankful for her observation, and let her know so many times. She only seemed to grow more annoyed with him every time he expressed his gratitude.

As it grew dark, Malkyn lead Gale into a small patch of woods going down the path. She looked like she knew where she was going, and Tybalt didn't bother to question her.

"There's a small clearing out here that I camp at when I misjudge my timing.. We'll set up there and I'll go look for some firewood."

"Very well, My lady. Shall I set up camp while you are away?" "That would be nice."

They reached the clearing quickly, and Malkyn didn't even stop with the horse. She simply let go of the reins and walked out further into the woods. It was Tybalt that had to guide Gale to a halt and lead her away from the center of the clearing. She found a small patch of shrubbery that managed to survive the cold and snacked happily, allowing the unfamiliar man on her back to step down without trouble.

Tybalt had carried his own tent on his back, but decided on setting up for Malkyn first. He felt a bit guilty, breaking into the bulging sack in search of whatever she used to camp out in. He found nothing in the bag, but rather found a bedroll strapped to the very back of Gale's Saddle. He felt silly for not considering that before.

Malkyn had walked further into the woods than she usually did in search of proper firewood, but she didn't care. The Knight was capable of handling things and watching her horse, so her feet carried her to any possible piece of dry wood that she could find in the snow.

She was like one of the dead as her eyes caught sight of anything good for the fire and her body moved to take it. Her mind was off in another place, thinking of her father's death in a less emotional way than it had many hours before. What would she say to the people in their Bannorn, much less to those that she would have to face in order to take what was her's to have?

Would they care that it was what her father had wanted? The people respected him. Of that she was certain. But how did the nobles see him? Was he a problem, a blockade in any larger plans? For that matter, had he been poisoned, or simply died of old age?

Her mind was swimming with questions that she had no answers to, but she wrestled with them even as she tried to bring life to the camp fire. Tybalt watched her, and as hopeful sparks hit wood and danced in reflections against Malkyn's eyes, he knew she was conflicted. With a sigh, he spoke.

"Lady Malkyn, I have brought a tent if you would prefer to sleep within it."

"It's fine, Ser Tybalt. I am used to sleeping underneath the sky. Though, I am not sure if sleep will be in my company tonight."

He nodded, and sat outside with her by the fire in silence until there was nothing more he could think to say or do in order to help her. Tybalt retreated into his tent, defeated in the attempt. He was not good with these things, and for that, he was regretful. He prayed that the Maker would give the Lady the strength to do what she had to. Like her, the Knight feared there would be many conflicts awaiting them when they reached Denerim.

They traveled so long as the sun was up, leaving camp as the first tendrils of daylight rose over the horizon. Together, they passed through the mountains in one full day of travel. Malkyn knew the pass well, and when a main path was riddled with snow, she knew another way to go. Once they reached the flatlands near Lake Calenhad, travel felt like it went even faster.

Malkyn scarcely spoke to the Knight unless she was giving him an order. From time to time, she would ask him if he wanted to ride, but each time he would refuse. He had walked all the way to Orzammar from Denerim… Why not walk all the way back?

She was beginning to feel bad for him, if only because she had allowed him no rest after he brought her news of her father's death. She had rushed out of Orzammar without warning, pushed her way past a King, and left another King to figure out why she had dropped from the Provings. No doubt Branka missed her favorite female drinking buddy, and Oghren missed the one woman that could get Branka to drink herself to giggles in the first place.

She was going to miss that.

Deep down, she thought it was a little odd that she was worried about never drinking with Dwarves again. She should be worried about failing the people in her Bannorn, of proving herself to nobles that would likely look down on her. She did not want to lose a life that she had been perfectly comfortable in, but would her sacrifice be worth it in the end? To others, perhaps it would be. To her? No. Giving up Branka and Oghren and freedom would not be worth it to her.

The Plains of the Bannorn were windy and humid, signs that the growing season would be a plentiful one given the humidity turned to rain. She remembered chasing her sister through the fields of a neighboring Bann, often to be scolded by their father. Here, there were fonder memories, but any memories ached now that her father had passed on.

Tybalt was very aware of her inner and unspoken turmoil. It was painted all over Malkyn's face, much like the intricate designs of Orlesian Court Masks. She couldn't hide it, and that was because she felt it more deeply than Tybalt was allowing himself to grieve for his former Commander. He wanted to tell her it was okay, but no one ever reacted well when he tried that tactic.

Too many days passed on like this until they finally reached Denerim. The walls of the city rose out of the ground like something forboding. Malkyn squirmed on Gale's saddle, having the slightest inkling to turn her horse and ride as fast as she could to get away. Her companion was aware of this, and he settled his hand on the neck of her horse as a reminder.

This was where she had to be. There would be no running anymore.

The Marketplace was bustling with life as it always had, though it seemed to be a freer life than what she had ever seen. The last time she had been to Denerim, the Usurper had still been sitting on Maric's throne. Malkyn had refused to go near Amaranthine or Denerim out of fear of who she might see when freedom had finally became her own.

Outside of one of the houses, a young woman sat with a few young children at her feet and a small babe in her arms. Instantly, Malkyn thought of her as nothing but a baby-making machine. The woman was thin, almost to the point of looking emaciated. Perhaps that was the price someone had to pay to care for so many children and feed them well. She almost felt sorry for her.

The Open Market was filled with all sorts of people peddling goods ranging from weapons and armor to perfumes and soaps. She resisted the urge to stop and look at any stall, calming her horse as she passed through the Market with all due haste.

She purposely avoided the Alienage during her passage through Denerim if only to avoid seeing the terrible conditions in which Elves had always had to live in the cities. It was something she didn't like, and the only way to do anything about it seemed to be to avoid it.

Tybalt lead her to her father's small Denerim Estate just along the coastline. The view of the ocean was probably what had attracted her father to this place; her mother always loved the sea. As they approached, Ser Tybalt went on to tell her that only a housekeeper and a cook lived there now. Most of the staff had been let go since Malkyn had ran away, but those that remained would surely remember her.

Everything was as she remembered it. The very small stable inside of the gates was empty, as it always was when she would first arrive with her father. The staff would be waiting for them on the doorstep, and in this case her old Nan, Germaine, and House Keeper Vallaa.

Germaine was human and the perfect picture of aging well. She was maybe twenty years older than Malkyn or more, but she had served her family as long as there was work available. Her bright smile was one of recognition, but she didn't speak yet.

She was tall and thin, surprisingly so for how robust she often sounded. Her aging face betrayed no illness, and her grey hair was all but a mark of being too old. She was a good worker, always had been. Malkyn could bet money that Germaine would still be able to catch her if she took off running.

Vallaa was an Elf, a woman who had fought alongside her mother in years long passed. Whatever had possessed her to stay on at her father's Denerim estate as a housekeeper was beyond Malkyn, but she assumed it had something to do with loyalty to her mother. Vallaa was not much younger than Germaine, but her Elven blood gave her an edge at looking younger in the first place.

Her ears were hidden behind her incredibly long hair, kept out of her way by a small tie halfway down the stream of locks. Vallaa was a very nondescript elf, looking like any other Elder.

"Look at you, Malkyn!" Germaine called out happily, "You look so much like your dear mother."

Malkyn dismounted, feeling a bit better simply at the sight of familiar faces. Her steps were practically bounding.

She just smiled at her until she was close enough to give her a hug. She wasn't too old for that, yet. "Its good to see you, Nan. And you too, Vallaa."

"It is good to see you as well, child. You've grown up quite a bit since I last saw you," Vallaa came forward, but did not step in close enough for a hug. She wasn't the sort.

"Fifteen years can do that, eh? I was still a child in regards to my maturity when I ran off."

Both of the older women nodded in agreement, giving each other that knowing look," Might as well get you comfortable, show you around again in case you need it."

As Malkyn was lead away, Tybalt guided her horse into the small stable and made her comfortable. The Saddle was lighter than he was used to on any of the horses back at Amell Castle, but he found that this was more acceptable for him… and probably easier on the horse. Gale pranced about in her stall after she was freed, a perfect picture of a white steed ready for her next task. He decided that he liked this horse.

He made a point of hiring a stable boy next time he was in the marketplace as he carried Malkyn's bag inside the estate. It had been a few years since he had been there, and even then, he had only stopped by to deliver instructions to the two women that stayed there all year.

Tybalt's feet carried him on autopilot toward the study, long since abandoned for use but still well stocked with books and the like. He did not know where else to put Malkyn's bag, so he sat it down on one of the linen covered chairs. Dust jumped up like a cloud of pestilence, and he coughed and coughed all the way out of the study.

Malkyn wasn't too far into the estate before she decided that she would like a rest. The master bedroom was the first to be cleared out and taken care of as soon as they received word that Tybalt had gone after her. She was thankful for this, and did not suffer the same fate as Tybalt when she cast off her breastplate in sleepy carelessness. Her body fell with ease into the bed, and with a happy sigh, she curled up underneath the blankets for a nap.

Another week and a half passed before the King and his Company returned from the Provings. In all of this time, Vallaa and Germaine and Tybalt worked tirelessly to bring the Amell Estate back up to par. A stable boy was hired to care for Gale, and several young maids were brought in to clean up the house so that it was livable and ready for guests. All three anticipated the inevitable flow of nobility looking to paint their own picture of the Amell Heir, and see for themselves if she was capable or not.

Those nobles had no idea how well, and how quickly, she would readapt herself to the conditions of court.


	4. Faces in the Dark

_Do the nightmares find your head_

_Staring to the face behind?_

_Time is all we have_

_When the sky has turned to grey_

_Stay with me._

_-_ Stay with Me by Asrai

I was in the mood to write something sad. You have been warned. Also, this was the fastest update I think I've ever managed for this story. I'm proud of myself.

* * *

_His dreams were always dark. Loghain Mac Tir had become accustomed to this. He had also grown accustomed to hearing a voice that he hadn't truly heard in more than twenty years. Each time he heard it, he prayed to the Maker that he would not see the face that came with it._

"_Loghain… Loghain." _

_It was Rowan. She sounded like she was struggling for his attention, and he was not inclined to give it. Every time he ever had before, his dreams took a turn for the more painful. Seeing her sent daggers through his chest while hearing her only made his heart ache. He did his best to turn away, if you could even really do that to a dream._

"_Are you going to ignore me again?.."_

_Yes, he wanted to say, but he couldn't. If he could close out whatever visions might arise in this dream, he would do it. But no matter how hard he tried to keep her face out of his mind, Rowan came to him still._

_The image she brought with her was familiar. They were in the same cavern where he had reaffirmed his feelings for her, sitting in front of the same small stream that had been forgotten and buried just like the memory the scene came from. She was wearing that resplendent red dress from a time at the rebel camp, and Rowan almost seemed more beautiful in her dream-like, ethereal glow than she ever had before._

"_You aren't going to get away from me this time," She said to him. Her whispy hand reached out for his own._

_Even if it wasn't real, he still felt the slight weight. It was only another reminder of how much he missed her and how easily these dreams brought him pain. The years had done little to dull the ache._

_His fingers curled around her own as she looked at him, despite his ever nerve screaming at him not to. Loghain regarded her in that moment from her fingertips to her light green eyes. She was smiling at him like she always had, something bordering on encouragement and happiness. He suddenly couldn't breathe, and his words didn't come without a fight._

"_Apparently not."_

_She only continued to smiled at him, like it was the answer she was expecting. "How long are you going to do this?"_

_He pretended like he didn't know what she was talking about, but the truth was there in his heart. He knew she was asking him how long he intended to set himself away from the world. She was asking him how long he was going to stay alone._

_When he didn't answer, that smile of hers disappeared._

"_Denying everything till the very end, as usual. You need to open up and try to move forward, Loghain. I can't watch you like this anymore," Her voice was suddenly sad. It made him frown._

"_I can't do that, Rowan."_

_She blinked at him before turning her eyes away and looking at the water. The tone in her voice grew soft, careful. It was like she wasn't sure how her words would effect him._

"_Yes you can. You just need a little push. Isn't that all you've ever needed?"_

_Truer words were never spoken. He could name more than one occasion where a little push from either her or Maric put him in the position to do greater things than he ever thought he would. Then again, it also took a little push from a good drink to get him talking._

_Rowan paused for a moment, letting go of his hand. He did not want to let her go, but when he reached for her, she simply slipped through his fingers. There was nothing he could do. _

_She stood to walk toward the gentle stream before them. It was running lower than he remembered, so shallow that the glow that surrounded Rowan illuminated all of the water. He could see the rocks beneath the surface as she turned to face him._

"_I'm here to give you that little push.. Find a way to be happy again. I want to see you happy. Maric wants to see you happy… Anora wants to see her father smile. Can you give that to us?"_

_He didn't have an answer._

"_Can you at least tell me what you want, what will make you happy?" She blinked back at him._

"_You made me happy. No one else."_

_Those words fell from his lips so easily that he was shocked with himself. _

"_I can't come back from the dead, Loghain."_

"_I know.."_

"_Isn't there someone else that could make you happy?" She seemed desperate to get a positive answer from him._

_Deep down, they both knew that that kind of answer was not going to come.. At least, not tonight._

_Rowan sighed at him as she turned away, and started down the dark cavern to wherever she had came from, " You need to wake up… Just.. Think about what I've asked you."

* * *

_

"Father? Are you feeling alright?.. You're feverish, and the maid couldn't wake you for breakfast.."

Loghain awoke to Anora sitting on the edge of his bed, looking on at him in something bordering on worry. It was always hard to tell with that girl, but he knew exactly where she had gotten it from. She also looked like she was ready to leave, and he wondered just how far past his usual time he had slept.

He sat up with a groan, settling his head in his hands to take a controlled breath. His hands were cold against his forehead, and the pain in his chest was slowly ebbing away. Loghain knew he was not ill, but he wasn't about to tell Anora what was really bothering him.

"I'll be alright Anora. I'll be down to the Landsmeet Chamber soon." He raised his head from his hands only to look up at her with a dismissive look, and reluctantly, she obeyed.

When she closed the door behind her, Loghain slid out of bed and moved with quick precision to armor himself for the day ahead. He willed himself to block out all thoughts. It didn't matter where his mind tried to wander; he simply reeled it back in and kept the silence to himself.

He did not want to think on Rowan, on the meaning of his dream, on what was to come when he reached the Landsmeet chamber. It was all of this trying not to think that got him through securing his armor so quickly that he scarcely felt the weight as it piled on, and he abandoned his room with all due haste.

Malkyn had came ready for a fight in every sense of the phrase. The red gown she wore beneath her signature breastplate allowed for decent maneuvering, and the sword tied to her waist was capable of faster movement than even her daggers. It was lightweight, but powerful. IF she had to use a sword, that was how she liked it.

The sounds of chatter rose higher when she entered, and she could only stiffen her back and stand straight in response. She knew that is was about her, but she wasn't about to let it get to her. None of the faces she saw were familiar to her, save for the King, the Prince, and the Lady Anora. Part of her was relieved to see Loghain emerge from one of the side passages, and she passed him with watchful eyes as she moved to take an empty seat among the other nobles.

It wasn't the first time that she had watched him, and it wasn't the first time Loghain noticed her amber colored eyes on him. Briefly, he wondered why it was that she paid such close attention to him. Was she wary of him, or simply intrigued?

Tybalt followed behind Malkyn closely as was his duty, but there was a great unease in his chest as they came to sit near those in the same Arling as his Lady. One in particular regarded her with anger, and he knew her and why she looked at Bann Devon's heir with such anger.

This woman was Bann Esmerelle, a woman who came by her title through marriage, and her husband conveniently fell ill and died a month afterward. If he remembered correctly, she had married Bann Ian, the same man that Malkyn had almost signed her life away to. He felt his hair standing up on end. It was the beginning of a bitter rivalry in exchanged, angry looks.

"Arl Howe, would you please present your case as to why Bann Devon's lands should not go to his child, but rather to Bann Esmerelle?" Maric spoke from his seat upon the throne.

Rendon Howe stood with a soft clearing of his throat and stepped forward to the edge of the platform that separated the nobles from the floor.

"Your Majesty, it is common knowledge that the Former Lady Amell, Bann Devon's wife, was of Orlesian Blood. Bann Devon was a sympathizer to the Usurper, and only came to the aid of Ferelden when the battle was already won. His bloodline is not worthy of what he managed to hold onto by kissing the feet of a false king!"

Malkyn gripped the armrest of her seat in a rising tide of anger. Even as she tried, she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"A strange reason for keeping _me f_rom my father's lands. Are we to toss everyone who's ever married an Orlesian off of their lands? I see many nobles in this room now that would be without house and home if this was the policy. Besides, I am Ferelden born. I am no sympathizer to Orlais. I have never once sworn fealty to any other King but the one on that throne now. Perhaps there is another reason that you seek to give my father's lands away. Payment for deeds in the dark, perhaps?"

The whole room filled with murmuring at her final sentence, and both Howe and Esmerelle gave her stony glares that would have shrunk a lesser woman. It was a harsh accusation, but Malkyn Amell was in no mood to be kind with her words. She would much rather speak poniards at them than give them flowers of kindness if they were going to treat her like this.

Bann Esmerelle stood now to address the King," What deeds in the dark she could possibly be speaking of are beyond me, Your Majesty, but is it not under Arl Howe's jurisdiction to do with the land as he pleases, if no proper heir is to be seen?"

Anora sighed as she listened to all of this. She knew the real reason that they didn't want Malkyn to have what was hers by birthright: she was a woman, untested and foreign to the court. It made her uncomfortable to listen to them trying to find every single excuse to try and bar her from what belonged to her. If only because she had often faced similar situations in her life, she decided to step forward.

"I think that Lady Malkyn is as proper of an Heir as any man would be. I've seen her fight, and she is capable in that. I have heard many of the older ladies talk of what a waste it was when she ran from home. Here she is, back to take what would have been hers eventually in the first place. I believe that it is only fair and right for her to be in control of her father's lands and receive the title that is her own by blood," Anora had spoke on Malkyn's behalf, and it seemed that more than one person in the room was surprised.

Loghain was one of them. He looked at his daughter and saw her glancing to Malkyn on her balcony. The silent exchange between them was something bordering on understanding, as if they were part of the same struggle. It was at this that he understood why Anora had spoken on her behalf. She too would have had to face the same fight if she were not betrothed to Cailan. Part of him swelled with something like pride, if only because she had decided to voice her opinion.

Maric nodded in agreement with Anora," I think Lady Anora says it best. I have no intention of allowing you to bar Lady Malkyn from what should be hers, Arl Howe. For better or worse, I decree that Malkyn Amell shall take her father's place."

A small flash of a smile came over Malkyn's face, and was missed by everyone around her but her Knight. He couldn't help but smile himself, knowing that a small measure of closure had come to her. Tybalt leaned over to whisper to her.

"Once this session has ended, I believe it would only be right to thank Lady Anora."

Malkyn nodded. She thought the same.


	5. Middle Ground

I realized that every time I mentioned Orlais in this chapter during my initial writing, I spelled it wrong. Currently, the most hated country in Dragon Age has its proper spelling written on my hand in permanent marker. Better than any oath of fealty, if you ask me.

This is one of those chapters that really just rambles on and covers ground that I don't feel needs a lot of time spent on it. It also explains things that will come up in the next few chapters. Its kind of like the first prequel book near the middle, lots and lots of narration and little dialogue.

* * *

The rest of that day's Landsmeet passed without any further intensive argument, and the Banns, Arls, Teyrns, and the King met for only three days more before everyone was dismissed to return home. All the while that Malkyn was not among the nobles at the Landsmeet, she found a friend in Anora Mac Tir. They spoke often and regularly during those four days that she spent in Denerim, and Malkyn could scarely remember a time she had been around any single human so long in her life.

She came to find that Anora had been raised for the court, almost forced into it by her mother much like Malkyn's father had done to her. She wasn't surprised when the Lady told her that Loghain was rarely ever in Gwaren that she could remember, but when he was there, Anora was his entire world. This made Malkyn smile, and she couldn't understand just why that might be.

Malkyn told Anora stories of her travels in return, all of the men that tried to court her in Orlais, and the famous one-liner many of the men spoke in her wake: "Once you go Fereldan, you don't go back." Perhaps it was a crude topic of conversation, but Anora seemed to get a laugh out of it just fine.

She also told Anora how lucky she thought she was, getting married to Cailan. In her eyes, they showed genuine interest in each other. Anora didn't speak to the contrary, but simply listen to Malkyn as she rambled about how she had always wanted a man to look at her like that, and how it had never happened. Though she didn't say it, Anora very nearly envied Malkyn for being so free.

Something about all the time she spent in the castle with Anora left her on edge, and perhaps that was the looming presence of her father who came and went as he pleased. Loghain seemed to be in the worst of moods on nearly every occasion she saw him, dark and brooding and certainly unhappy. Malkyn felt something along the lines of pity, but she convinced herself that pitying a man like the Teyrn was silly. Surely he had everything in his life that he could have ever wanted through his own blood, sweat, and tears. She had never been more wrong in her life.

When she finally left Denerim, Malkyn did not want to go to a house that was not a home, but there she was, riding on Gale's back on her way to Amell Castle. It had been fifteen years since she had been there, and it had been fifteen years that she had prayed never to go back.

Lush farmland rolled by her in a haze, and some of those that tended the land came out to wave greetings to their new Bann. She nodded to them and waved as she had often seen her father do in the past, and all the while she heard whispers of approval. It was like her desertion of her father had all but been forgotten, and none of those she met seemed to hold it against her. She was glad for that.

The castle loomed on the sunny horizon like a dark beacon, and to Malkyn it was just a reminder of what she had left behind. Several of her father's servants had come out to greet her, just like those at the Denerim estate. There were so many more, and almost all were faces without names that she recognized. With Tybalt riding beside her, all she could do was nod to them, abandon her horse with the stable boy, and head inside with her Knight.

Tybalt was greeted warmly by a lovely young woman, blond, and radiant, and plump with life. It went without saying that this woman was his wife, and they were both very pleased to see each other. So in love. So happy.

Malkyn looked on at them in silence, allowing them to have their moment as she thought of how nice it would be to be greeted home like that. Indeed, she thought how nice it would be to carry life within her as Tybalt's wife did in that very moment. She was suddenly envious of the woman.

"Aveline, this is Bann Devon's daughter, and our new Bann Malkyn. Bann Malkyn, this is my wife Aveline." Tybalt's smile shined unlike she had ever seen it before.

"Hello, miss Aveline," Malkyn spoke carefully. She prayed that her envy would not carry over.

"I would never have guessed you were Bann Devon's daughter. You do not look much like him… I only see it in your jaw line," The young lady spoke to Malkyn with such a soft tone that she came off fragile and worry-worthy.

Malkyn was instantly less envious, as if it all made sense to her as to why this woman was with child and marry to a man that loved her and she was not. This all was so because Aveline Ashdown was a fragile flower, and Malkyn Amell was a stubborn thorn. Or at least, that is how her uneasy mind rationalized it.

"People tell me that I look more like my mother on some days, more like my father on others."

Aveline nodded, and then glanced at Tybalt, "How long shall we be staying in the Castle?"

"Until you give birth, my dear. I do not want the travel to harm your health," Tybalt spoke to her so gently that his worry came over any sense of love.

"How long does she have, Ser Tybalt?" Malkyn regarded the large lump of the woman's belly curiously

"Maybe a month."

"I'm sure arrangements were already made by my father for the two of you, and if they haven't been then we'll tend to it later. I would like to get some rest," the new Bann hastily excused herself, and went around them and out of the main hall in a hurry.

Upon seeing her in the side passages, a servant took the liberty of guiding Malkyn to her quarters, the same room her father had occupied but had since been redecorated to better suit a lady. At the foot of her large bed was a chest that looked like it had seen better days, and there was a small note on top of it.

_Mally,_

_It was nice of you to take off without warning, but when I heard what happened, I decided I could forgive you. In this case was what I was going to give you after the Provings were over, a little token of appreciation for all the fun we've had since this whole mess started. I guess it's a bit extravagant for your new station, but you're worth it. Thanks for being a friend to me no matter who I was, smith, Paragon, or otherwise._

_Branka_

_P.S Oghren thought that I should just send you a pint of Dwarven ale. I opted out. One pint wouldn't have been enough._

In the last few weeks, this little present was probably the best thing that had happened to Malkyn. Branka had sent her a whole set of armor to go with her chest piece, and it was beautiful. Not only was its craft flawless and the workings lovely, but Branka had carved in deep designs into some of the pieces, all of which were enchanted with Lyrium runes. It was a lovely gift, better to her than any King would ever receive.

Underneath all of the pieces was a long blade, crafted by Branka alongside all of this armor. The pummel was a large stone of red colored lyrium, which she guessed was something like a source for all the dancing light that skittered through the inscription on the blade. After seeing the blade, Malkyn deduced that Branka had been working on her present for a very long time.

Malkyn took the liberty of trying it on, and it all fit her closely. This was just the way she liked it, and the only way anyone would ever get her into a full set of steel armor. Her broad smile could probably be seen shining against her hand guards, her boots, and her greaves like a crescent moon. Branka had found yet another way to make her happy, and the dwarf wasn't even around to say anything about it.

With this new armor in the case at her feet, Malkyn could climb into bed and rest happily. Her smile belonged to no one but her in that moment, and no one else would see it shine like that for many months.

* * *

Every morning that she awoke following, Malkyn would meet with some of the freeholders and discuss their needs as she would need to voice them to the Arl. If it was not this that took up her time, it was the protection of merchant caravans passing through the area. And if even this did not crop up, somehow the Maker would find some minor crisis to throw at her. Usually, these Andraste sent crises usually involved a suitor that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with. Malkyn Amell had scarcely any time to herself. Letters to the capital were exchanged often with Anora, and perhaps they served as her only outlet.

She complained about how boring the whole business was, and how she suddenly felt very sorry for Anora once she became Queen. She tried to make the whole thing a laughing matter, but oftener than she'd like, Anora would reel her back down to earth with some comment about how her people needed her.

Once or twice in their passing letters, Anora had mentioned how her father had asked about Malkyn from time to time. He would tell her that he was simply curious, or if this answer did not suffice, that it was Maric who really wanted to know, and not him. Anora did not believe this, and Malkyn couldn't understand why.

Of course Loghain knew his real answer, and perhaps it was because the Lady Malkyn had been prodding at his mind like a branding rod. With thoughts of Rowan came thoughts of her, of their similarities and their differences, and the words that the departed Queen had spoken to him in his dreams. He did not always think of the woman he loved, but when he did, Rowan came hand in hand with Malkyn.

Sometimes he thought of how shocked he might be if he were to ever see Malkyn in battle, wearing her bright, Dwarven crafted armor with a great green plume coming from her helm and waving in the wind behind her. He wondered how he would feel if her own brown locks would ever boast bounce and curl quite like Rowan's did, and he dreaded thinking of her in a red dress.

Most of all, he hated how easily all of these thoughts had came to him and how he could think like this without exchanging a single word with the woman other than courtly pleasantries. Twenty some-odd years and there he was, sitting at his desk and allowing his mind to wonder as if he were nothing better than a young man chasing fantasies. It made him sick with himself. It was too unlike him.

It was these things that tortured him into reminding himself that Malkyn was not like the other women he had seen in Denerim. She wielded any weapon she put her hands on with skill she had come across on her own. She wore armor to court, not some gaudy dress that drowned out her complexion. She had a commanding voice and a sense of honor that, he felt, had long been absent from the Landsmeet chamber. Without really knowing her, he approved of her more highly than he had ever approved of a woman since Rowan. Malkyn Amell put on a face that demanded respect, and while others chose to ignore that, Loghain was more than willing to give it.

It went without saying that she was worthy of it, for he was more than aware of her accomplishments. Anora had told him all about her victories in the Provings. She had gone undefeated for nearly four years before she had to come back to her old life. Malkyn had been all over Orlais and even the Free Marshes in all the time before she had been in Orzammar, and seen things that men only dreamed of. Maybe he envied her, deep down, for all of the chances she had to get away from duty.

He had only ever wanted to run away three times, and two of those times had he been foiled by Maric and Rowan. The only reason he had managed it the third time was because he used duty as an excuse to get away from an even larger duty, and Anora had suffered for it. Loghain Mac Tir could run away from a wife he didn't love, but he could never run away from obligation to his country successfully.

But like him, Malkyn eventually swallowed the terrible beast of duty down and gave into the fact that she had little choice but to take on what had been left to her. Maybe that was enough, other than the fact that she reminded him so much of Rowan, to make him decided that he could tolerate her.

It was a week before Aveline was due to give birth that word came from Denerim that Malkyn was required at the palace, urging her to bring her most trusted knight with her, on a subject that regarded her Bannorn. She was immediately nervous when she realized that this wasn't a letter from Anora that had come from Denerim, and with all due haste, she managed to get Tybalt to agree to going with her.

Needless to say, neither he nor his wife were pleased with this. He might miss the birth. Malkyn assumed that she should be sympathetic, but the jealous beast in her was not in the least bit. To the Black City with their precious moment. There were things that the King felt she needed to attend to, and Malkyn would do just that with Tybalt at her side.


	6. Reunion, Regret, and Reminder

Anyone who can tell me who Selene is based off of gets a cookie. Also, it's a bit longer than the usual chapter. When the last one had very little dialogue, this one swells with it. Yay very quick update!

* * *

"_Duncan? Its been years!… But I take it that this isn't a recreational visit?" Maric sighed as Duncan lead another of the Grey Wardens into the Landsmeet chamber._

_Loghain stood at his side, and felt an awful wave of déjà vu come over him as a cloaked woman passed Duncan up before he could even return Maric's greeting. This woman was tall, thinner than any bean pole and nearly looked emaciated. He could not see her face past the hood over her head, and this made Loghain uneasy. _

"_Take off your hood and introduce yourself, Warden." Loghain spoke, almost threateningly._

_Maric went to protest, but the lady raised her hands and spoke, "There is reason for your precautions, Teyrn Loghain. For your sake then, I shall remove my hood and introduce myself properly."_

_Her hands continued upward and pushed the white fabric of her cloak hood away, revealing a truly haunting sight. The woman's hair had long turned pure white, and her eyes were wrapped in bloody cloth. Her pale lips curved into a knowing smile. She had felt the air change. She knew her appearance set chills down the back of the King and his Advisor._

_She took a step forward, and Loghain's sword arm twitched at his side. He did not like the look, nor the air, around this woman. She moved like a predator, and even her unconscious steps left him warry._

"_My name is Selene Amell. Duncan and I are here to discuss a matter that will greatly effect Ferelden, and I'm afraid we will again have to ask that you come to the Deep Roads with us, Your Majesty."_

Amell._ Was this the daughter that Devon had lost to magic, the sister that Malkyn had told Anora of? Loghain had trouble believing that the woman before him was the same woman that Anora had portrayed as an innocent, immaculate youth. Then again, he knew magic could do terrible things to people. He wondered what it had done to her to make her the image of a banshee._

"_What is it now?" Maric questioned, but his question was more addressed to Duncan. Selene made him uncomfortable, very nearly frightened him more than darkspawn._

"_I was on my way with my daughter to visit my sister, Malkyn, when I felt our father pass on. However, I was distracted by the unwavering feeling that there was something more pressing nearby, and there was. One of the Deep Road's passages have come open, and taint is pouring out into my sister's Bannorn. I could have taken this matter to her first, but it _is _important that you, and your Advisor, accompany us all."_

"_Are there other Wardens waiting for you at this passage?" Loghain said._

"_Four. Three elves, two of which are mages, and my daughter."_

_Selene's eyes locked on Maric's own, and he heard her voice in his mind. It chilled him to his core._

I am giving you a chance to say goodbye to the one you love.

_Maric diverted his gaze elsewhere as this statement hit home. Two elven mages. Was one of them Fiona? What would it be like to see her after all these years?_

_With a shake of his head, he tried to return to the subject at hand._

"_How many men are you asking for?" Maric sighed, looking at Duncan._

_The Warden Commander stepped forward now, and voiced the request himself," Only yourself, Teyrn Loghain, Lady Malkyn, and two others. We do not know what to expect once we go down into the passage, but Selene had an encounter that warrants caution… Could you tell them, Selene?"_

"_Of course… I decided to move closer to the disturbance I felt, and found myself face to face with an _armored _Ogre Commander… Ogres do not usually wear armor, least of all so well crafted. It was a tough kill to make alone- Hannah had gone hunting."_

"_Hannah is your daughter?"_

"_Yes, Teyrn Loghain."_

_Loghain shifted in place, glancing to Maric and then to the Wardens. Distrust spilled from him like a great flood, and for whatever reason, this caused Selene to come still closer to the throne._

"_You have no need to fear Orlesian Influence this time. We are not going on a mad chase for someone who should have been lost. It is merely a very important clean up.. For us all."_

_Loghain had this feeling that somehow, this woman was looking directly into his soul past the cloth over her eyes. He could believe this no more than when he heard her speak, but her lips did not move._

You are afraid, Loghain Mac Tir. I may be blind, but my mind is open to those long past… You do not want to go somewhere that will remind you of Rowan. Deep down, all the Deep Roads are to you are a place of death and false dreams.. Shame that it would reduce a great man such as you to distrusting the Keepers of Humanity.. You are.. Such a coward…

* * *

_Coward._

The minute he had heard that word, all he had wanted to do was accuse the woman of anything, anything to get her to leave. He simply couldn't. Every other word than coward left him frozen in place, unnerved by someone with such insight. He found that he automatically hated her, and he did his best to avoid her until Malkyn reached the castle at Maric's behest.

Selene Amell was no average mage, and he distrusted her if only for how she conducted herself, and how she looked. Loghain did not dare ask Duncan how the woman had become such a shell of a human being, living on only a thread. He did not once see her come to dinner, nor ever see her leave the library. He regularly asked himself how one was to read when their eyes were wrapped in bandages that clearly needed changed days ago.

_I can see in other realms._ She told a servant once. What in the Black City did that mean anyway? And maybe, just maybe, all of her vision came from the Fade. That didn't make much sense to Loghain, or anyone else. The Fade was a dream world. Could the spirits there really guide her through the real world?

The same day that a messenger had came with word of Malkyn's departure, Loghain could not sleep. Rather than sit up in his own room, he decided to walk about the palace like he usually did in such situations. Sleep had become something he was no longer capable of having soundly, at least he hadn't sleep well since his last dream of Rowan.

Everything was quiet, and it seemed that most of those staying in the palace had gone to bed. The only other life stirring were the guards, all of which had gotten used to seeing Loghain wander the halls. This time, however, he was not alone. Selene followed just behind him, having anticipated his inability to sleep.

"Teyrn Loghain?"

Loghain stopped in place, turning to look at the woman who had followed him from his room. In this hallway, there were no guards to hear them converse. To him, it felt like she had planned this.

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to talk to you, to caution you about what is to come," Selene said.

"You are not only blind, a Grey Warden, but also a Seer now? How cliché."

Selene grinned, and in the low lighting, it made Loghain shiver. She was not human in his eyes.

"You have always stood alone, and that has been your greatest mistake. Do not make it again."

"…What are you talking about?" Loghain's voice betrayed skepticism. Selene was not surprised by this.

"Since your Queen passed on, have you not been a rotting shell of what you once were? The great Commander of Maric the Savior's forces is only held together by the armor that encases him. There is no one that stands by you constantly. No forced wife, no daughter desperate for her father's affections. I am not the first person to tell you that you need to move on, and find someone willing to take your side, am I?"

"Why do you do this?" Loghain snapped at her, "Is it not enough that your very presence unnerves me, you disgusting excuse for a human being? At least it is not my body that rots and gives way to who I am."

"Magic did these things to me, Loghain Mac Tir. Magic and taint. You did your damages to yourself. You gave up what you could have kept. You lied to your best friend so that he would -"

"That is enough! I did not lie to Maric. Katriel was a traitor. She put us on the Silver Platter for the Orlesians, and pretended to love him so that we wouldn't kill her."

"Is that what you've convinced yourself of? But what if she really did love him? What then? Did you break the hearts of those closest to you for nothing?… Did you not think there would be consequences?"

"I did what I did for Ferelden." Loghain stood his ground, taking this moment to try and calm himself. This was getting out of hand.

"Shall you do everything you will ever do for Ferelden? I should be fighting to my death in the Deep Roads by now for the Grey Wardens, my version of your Ferelden, but I refuse to go.. My deeds are not done. Neither are yours, and neither are Maric's."

"Then what is happening to you is what happens to those that resist their Calling."

"Not precisely. It is a mixture of many things. You will understand some day." Selene turned away from him, looking in the direction of the gates. Loghain thought it peculiar, considering they were inside.

"You are nothing like your sister."

"Funny, considering you are not well acquainted with her.. Nevertheless, I would never want to be. I am what I am… Speaking of my sister, she should be here by morning."

Loghain blinked at her as she walked away, leaving him with all of that to think on. As if trying to get asleep with Rowan on his mind wasn't enough.

* * *

When Malkyn and Tybalt left their camp that morning, she saw fit to wear her full suit of armor. She wore it if only to put a barrier between them. The two of them had traveled in near silence, and the Bann knew exactly why. Her Knight was angry with her for taking him away from his wife, and she was beginning to regret her decision. She thought the looks he was giving her were judgmental, but that was hardly the case.

Tybalt had tuned in to Malkyn's intense jealousy of women with children. On their way back to Denerim, he had seen it at work when they passed a small caravan and she snapped on a young woman who could not control her child. As soon as they passed the caravan, she looked sad and bent out of shape almost instantly. Though he was mad at her for pulling him away from his pregnant wife, he could not help but feel sorry for her.

For an unmarried, childless woman, Malkyn Amell was old. She knew how small her chances got with every passing year that she waited to marry and have children, yet still she held out. It was one promise she had made to herself that she had yet to break: She would marry a man she loved, or never marry at all. It weighed on her every day, but she wasn't about to take that weight off for no one.

Their arrival in Denerim was welcomed for her. Malkyn wanted to see Anora as much as she wanted to figure out just what was so important that she had to leave her Bannorn. Its not that the departure was unwelcome, but she had received so few details that she felt uneasy the whole ride. Gale had picked up on her master's unease several times during their trip, and very nearly stopped allowing them forward at all halfway to Denerim.

Anora was among those waiting for them, and upon seeing Malkyn come through the palace gates, she genuinely smiled and waved to her in greeting. The Bann returned in kind as she dismounted and approached the group. She scarcely paid attention to any of the others as she came in for a friendly hug.

Tybalt noted everyone else on her behalf. He saw the desperately creepy looking Selene standing away from the group, Duncan standing among the usual suspects, but he noticed Loghain more than the rest of them. He looked much more tired than he remembered him, like sleep was a precious commodity. The Teyrn sighed in exhaustion.

"Once all of this mess is over, I think I'll stay in Denerim with you for awhile, Anora. I miss actually talking to you," Malkyn smiled softly. The presence of friends tended to lift weight from her shoulders.

"I would be offended if you didn't, Malkyn, but I won't keep you anymore. My father, King Maric, and the Grey Wardens need to speak with you before we make any arrangements," Anora responded, turning out of the way so Malkyn could look at those gathered.

"Duncan," She said with a bit of regret. She really didn't like seeing him, if only for the fact that seeing him meant a mess to be dealt with.

"Its nice to see you too, Malkyn," He joked, " We should probably go inside to talk about this."

Malkyn only responded with a bit of a murmur as Maric turned inside, followed closely by Duncan. Selene had already disappeared within the door, and for whatever reason, Loghain was lagging behind.

"Are you alright, Teyrn Loghain?" Malkyn asked him as she came to his side.

"Fine.. Just tired."

"Did you not sleep well?"

"I never do."

"Mmm.. Well, I haven't slept real well myself in the last few days." Malkyn tried her best to carry on conversation, and she wasn't sure if she would succeed.

"Why is that?"

"I did something that makes me feel bad.. Ser Tybalt's wife was due to give birth this week, and I made him come with me anyway."

Loghain glanced over his shoulder at the Knight who was removing a few things from his saddle pack. He could see how unhappy he was without as much as a second glance.

"What were your reasons?"

"I needed him to come with me. The letter specifically said to bring my most trusted Knight, but-"

"No buts, Bann Malkyn. Your decision is made, and regretting it will only make things worse," Loghain interrupted her.

Deep down, she knew he was right.

As the pair came through the front door to the Landsmeet chamber, Loghain saw Selene leaning against one of the pillars, watching him, and perhaps Malkyn as well, very closely. She showed no signs as to why, but this unnerved him. For good measure, he took a few steps away from the Bann, in case he was standing closer than he imagined. This only raised a quiet chuckle from the Seer who went ahead of them, gathering Malkyn's attention along the way.

"Who is that?" She asked.

"I believe that is your sister.. The time for reunion is later, however. She seems to know that as well as you should."

Malkyn nodded and went ahead. She was more eager for the new than Loghain imagined.

As she jogged ahead of him, he couldn't help but notice how her armor hugged onto her. To his memory, the woman in front of him had been one for leathers, aside from the breastplate that she wore even now. Her right hand rested over the pummel of her blade almost possessively as she controlled it from nicking her armor, hitting her boots, or worse. Part of him couldn't help but see Rowan chasing after Maric.

Loghain decided in that moment that the Maker was torturing him.

When Malkyn came into the Landsmeet Chamber, she was greeted with the image of her sister standing in the middle of it, and she held her arms out to her for a hug. She was in no place to refuse and went running to her without a second thought.

"You've changed, Mally."

"So have you, Sel."

Selene half smiled as she put some distance between herself and her sister. "I'll tell you everything, even what I neglected to tell the others."

"There is a passage to the Deep Roads in your Bannorn, and the darkspawn opened it. Chances are that they are trying to nest there, or at least that is what Duncan believes. However, it seems like the darkspawn there are not quite like the usual. I saw an armored Ogre near the enterance, and that brings me to fear that they are well established already. We need you to come with us and save your people."

_And save someone else along the way. They will be among us, and while you will be saving the people in your Bannorn in a literal sense, you will be saving the soul of this person. I will leave it up to you to figure out who, dear sister. Much will happen when we are in the Deep Roads. For you, for the King, for the Prince even…_

Malkyn blinked at Selene as she spoke into her mind, something that she had always done when they were younger. When their mother was alive, she called it their blood bond. No doubt that now that her sister was a mage, she could talk to others like that too.

"Okay."

"Just okay? You understand that this is going to be dangerous. You've never faced Darkspawn before, Malkyn." Duncan spoke with some concern as he broke from conversation with Maric.

"I have to do this, don't I? I may be just a Bann, but their my people and they rely on me to protect them. I'll protect them from anything I have to. Darkspawn, bandits, even demons if I must. Just tell me when we're leaving, and I'll be ready."

"Tomorrow, if you're privy to it," Selene spoke.

"Tomorrow then."

Selene nodded, leaving her sister to converse over the practical things with the King and his advisor. As she passed Loghain, the words she had spoken to him the night before echoed through his mind like a warning, or perhaps a reminder.

_You have always stood alone, and that has been your greatest mistake._


	7. A Little Girl's Dream

Selene is actually inspired by Theresa from the Fable games, who is directly related to the main protagonist in the first game, and is assumed to be related to the protagonist in the second. She is also blind, a Seeress, and assumed to be immortal.

Tybalt gets his name from a character by the same name from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. He is, however, nothing like him. Tybalt was an asshole in the play.

Hannah, Selene's daughter, is also inspired by a Fable character. You'll find that all of my original Grey Wardens take after the Three Heroes from Fable 2. Hannah is much like Hannah, or Hammer as they call her. Tamyria is much like Garth, and Felrin is like Reaver in a sense that he is arrogant and not well suited to heavy responsibility.

* * *

Enough about the characters that you've met or will meet in this chapter. Lets get on with it.

"I want to come with you, father."

When everyone had readied to leave the castle, they found Cailan at the gates. He was already atop his horse, prepared to leave with the Grey Wardens and all the others going with. It seemed that he would probably fight Maric on the issue for eternity, and it felt like eternity as they began arguing. It took them so long to reach an arrangement that everyone had saddled their horses, and Loghain had even managed to ready Maric's own horse.

"Fine! But you aren't going into the Deep Roads with us. You'll stay with those that are going to remain at camp, just in case."

Even this answer was satisfactory to Cailan, and he lead his horse in a circle in something like a victory prance. As he did this, Loghain led Maric's horse to him.

"Try not to fall this time," Loghain said, and to Maric, it almost sounded like a joke.

"What's this, the great Loghain Mac Tir making a joke? Mark it in the history books, Cailan. The day has finally arrived," Maric gave him a toothy grin as he hoisted himself up and onto the back of his horse.

"Be quiet, Maric. I was simply asking you not to repeat a past mistake."

"Suuuurrrrreeeeee…" The King chuckled as he rode ahead to join Duncan.

Even as the group left the castle, they formed something of a riding line. They moved in pairs, Duncan and Maric at the lead, Loghain and Malkyn just behind them, followed by a cart which was being driven by one of the palace guards. Behind the cart were Cailan and Selene, who would probably not utter a single word to each other the entire trip. Just behind them were the two Knights of the group, Ser Cauthrien and Ser Tybalt.

"Does the King make it a habit to fall off his horse?" Malkyn looked ahead of herself at Maric, who was deep in conversation with Duncan.

"You would be surprised how often it happens."

"I take it he is a terrible rider."

"To put it bluntly, he has a habit of falling off when it serves him well. During the rebellion, he fell off of his horse and into a great snow drift. He was there the whole battle, and no one ever knew until Rowan and I found him."

Loghain blinked as he told this story to her, finding it strange that he could not only make conversation with her, but speak so lightly of Rowan. She seemed to have a way of lightening the air quite like Anora managed to do for him. Maybe the girls had more in common than they thought.

"Had to have been awfully cold."

"I can imagine it was, but that doesn't make him any less lucky. It was a tough battle."

"Were you always better suited to close combat?" Malkyn tried to keep conversation going. She did not want to fall into silence.

"Meaning that I always wore such heavy armor, or that I was better with a sword than anything else? In either case, no. When I was young, I preferred leather armor and I was better with a bow than could be said for my skills with a sword. I think I have fallen out of practice…."

And most of the ride that day continued in just such a way. Malkyn never seemed to tire of Loghain, and he never seemed to tire of her. They took turns asking each other questions, as was the way when you had a long time to travel and nothing else to do.

Malkyn told him stories about Oghren and Branka in exchange for any memories of the days when he, Maric, and Rowan were inseparable. Every story she told made her face light up in smiles and laughter, like the memories were some of the best she had. Loghain could barely comprehend how dancing on a table with two drunken dwarves qualified as one's finest memories, but he didn't question it. He simply watched her and listened.

"So there we were, okay? Two dwarves, both of which are so drunk that they're falling over in giggles, and then there's me, the dainty little human that can't hold her liquor, vomiting into Oghren's pint. He got mad at me for that one in the morning, but I think we were all equally hung over, so it didn't really make a difference.."

If Loghain had ever been that drunk, he didn't remember it.

"Did you make it a habit to go drinking with them all the time?"

"No, not all the time. Whenever I was in Orzammar, they were my go to people. I was pretty surprised when Branka became a Paragon, and so was she. To tell you the truth, she didn't like it a bit… She doesn't like the attention it brings her."

"And what about you? Do you like being a Bann?" Loghain turned his head to look at her.

She seemed fairly deep in thought when she finally did answer him," I don't know if I'd say I like the actual being a Bann part.. But taking my father's place has gotten me things that I've always liked having."

"Like?"

"Friends. Anora, Tybalt.. Even you, I guess. And, and my sister. I haven't seen her since she brought Juliana to me."

When they finally made camp, Maric watched his old friend like a hawk. He noted how Loghain spent most of his time with Malkyn, even while they were off the road. They seemed to be like a pair of magnets, one never able to leave the other alone. It was Maric's turn to feel a sense of déjà vu. It was his turn to see Rowan in Malkyn every time she spoke a word to Loghain, and every time he saw he friend look on her with something bordering longing and remembrance, Maric said a silent prayer to the Maker.

Tybalt watched them too, and he saw Malkyn give a good natured smile here and there. He had once thought that she would need closure to ever smile like that again, and he wondered what closure that Loghain Mac Tir could ever offer her. To him, it seemed to be nothing but a fleeting moment of comfort to his Lady. He was not in the least concerned about how the situation effected the Teyrn. The Lady's Knight saw Loghain as nothing more than an older gentleman chasing after a younger lady whose biological clock was ticking faster than she could run.

When Ser Cauthrien looked upon them, she knew not what to think when Malkyn offered Loghain a drink of something she had brought with her. She knew not what to think when she heard her Teyrn laughing, Maker's breath.. Laughing! She chose to blame it on the alcohol, and by no means did the Lady have anything to do with.

Malkyn made it her duty to sing every night as everyone laid themselves down to sleep, like she was the mother of them all, singing her children down with a lullaby. Selene sat up with her no matter whose turn it was to keep watch, and she smiled to her sister every time.

"You will be a good mother, Mally."

"If I ever find a man I feel that comfortable with," Malkyn whispered to her.

"You don't understand. When I say you will I mean it. You will be a good mother someday," Selene patted her sister's shoulder and sat next to the fire, watching all the others drift off to sleep.

Even Loghain in his tent met rest and good-natured sleep during their travels. He did not once dream of Rowan, and not once did he spend his moments of drifting away to think about her. He was tired physically, but no longer was he so worn down that even sleep would not take him. Four days travel and talk with Malkyn has surely lifted a lot of weight from his shoulders.

They talked about a lot of things that he wouldn't talk to anyone else about normally, and this was always when they were not riding. Whenever she would ask about Rowan, he would tell her to wait until they made camp, and he would tell her what he could manage in hushed words over a campfire and cooking meat. She listened so intently that he hardly felt like he was talking at all, and simply thinking of it all like he used to. Talking to her was as natural to him as thinking had ever been, and sometimes, thinking was all he ever did.

It was one of these times that she decided to tell him a small snippet of her own past, more specifically, about someone she had loved once.

"When I was in Orlais, I met this elf named Felrin. He had long blond hair, and green eyes like emeralds. First time I saw him, I knew that I would love him. He took me in and taught me a lot of the fighting that I know now, told me all about Val Royeaux, and helped me survive there too."

"But, after about a year, he told me that there were better things out there for me than him, and he just disappeared. I never went back to Orlais, I just packed up my things and started roaming Ferelden and the Free Marshes instead. I even went to Antiva once… but I kept going back to Orzammar for my friends."

"Do you miss him?" Loghain said.

"Him? No. He was arrogant and prettier than any man should really ever be, but he knew how to make a woman feel wanted. I liked that most, being held and told that I could never do wrong…Its been… years since I've ever let anyone hold me like that. I miss the intimacy, not the physical part about it, but how it makes me feel on the inside- Wow.. This is kind of weird to be talking about."

Loghain nodded firmly in response. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what she thought of such things, at least not yet.

"Does it bother you, when I ramble on?" Malkyn asked.

"No. Talk all you like."

And she did.

The next day they arrived at the campsite that had been set by the other Grey Wardens. Only two were there at the moment, a young Human girl built with more strength in her bones than any other Loghain had ever seen, and a small, petite elven mage. They looked at them all, and the human smiled and stood.

"Glad you finally got here, mother…and.. Err.. Everyone else!"

He assumed this strong looking woman was Hannah, and judging by the weapon that she left behind, he assumed people called her Hammer. She had long red hair, curly too, and she seemed to be the more friendly of the two that remained at camp.

"Hello, Hannah. Where are Felrin and Fiona?"

"…..Felrin?" Malkyn murmured. No one else seemed to hear her but Loghain, and Loghain was probably the only one that understood.

Hearing that name put something like a dagger into her chest. She put her hand on Loghain's arm once she dismounted, probably for stability. He didn't protest, but he looked right at her. The look in her eyes was something like dismay and anger.

"They went hunting. No one else would go with the damned prick."

"Watch your language, Hannah. Our guests are-"

"Its alright, Selene. We'll be shedding blood together after all." Maric stopped the Seeress from correcting her daughter further.

"How long have they been gone?" Loghain asked, more out of sympathy for Malkyn than real concern.

"An hour maybe." The small elven woman spoke.

She had went back to reading as soon as she realized who had been walking up to them, and gave them little more notice after that. She too had red hair, but it was not nearly so curly as Hannah's. It waved just enough to cover her eyes from the view of those that had arrived.

"That is Tamyria. She doesn't talk much, but she a damned brilliant mage."

Malkyn seemed to move without thought to take a seat next to a fire that had probably been going for a long time. She didn't expect Loghain to come and sit with her, but he had done so every other time they stopped… Why not now? Perhaps because she didn't know how to feel, or how to think of anything considering that Felrin was rearing his pretty head where it didn't belong.

_I'm not going to hold you down, Mally. There are better things out there for you._

More like better things for him. He left her behind to become a Grey Warden. He left her behind for a death sentence. She could probably feel no more senseless than she did in that moment. She wanted to cry, because deep down, she had really cared about that no-good, useless, lying elf. There she was at a fire he had sat at for who knows how long, sitting next to an older man that he didn't know and-

And then the appropriate plan of action hit her. Make. Him. Jealous. What other conclusion would an angry woman come to?

"Loghain, I need you to do me a favor."

"What is it, Malkyn?"

"When Felrin comes back.. Well, I'm going to kiss you. And don't you stop kissing me until I stop kissing you."

Loghain blinked at her. He was surprised at her suggestion," Don't you think that's a little extreme.. Maybe it isn't even the same Felrin from Orlais."

"If it isn't, I owe you twenty Sovereign. If it is, I'm going to kiss you like my life depended on it."

She seemed pretty set on that, and no matter how Loghain's sensible side protested, he couldn't sway her from it. To face it, the Teyrn didn't know how this was going to blow over, or really, how he was going to feel about it. Knowing that she meant only to do this because of an elf left him against the whole idea. If he was going to kiss her, Loghain Mac Tir would rather it be for their own reasons, not for making some elf from however many years ago jealous of him.

It felt like forever before movement came up in the brush not far from the campsite, and with determination, Malkyn fixed her gaze on just that spot. She wanted to see Felrin there, if only because part of her wanted an excuse to kiss the man sitting next to her.

When she had been younger, the very first day that Maric had held court in Denerim, her father had brought her. She was young then, but even as a young girl she fantasized about the Great Hero of the River Dane. She had seem him once or twice, and thought him to be the most handsome man she had ever seen. Against all hope, she prayed that her father might marry her to him. Of course, he didn't and Loghain wound up marrying a woman whose name she can't remember. An angry child she had been when that day came to pass. She was just too young.

Maybe it was the one time she had ever talked to him as a child. She had skinned her knee running about outside the palace while her father was inside taking care of some business. Loghain was the only one there, other than the guards, and somewhere he had found it in himself to calm her down.. Even give her a candy. He told her that she would be strong, she remembered that as much as the taste of the candy- strawberry.

Perhaps it was a subconscious thought of the words he told her that moved her to run away from home and become what she was now. She didn't run away from Bann Ian because she hated him. She ran away from him because he wasn't in the slightest bit like Loghain. Part of her had made up her mind as a child that she would never marry a man that could not stand up to the standards set by a hero, her hero.

But now, she wasn't thinking about her childhood fascinations with the hero. She was thinking about the man sitting next to her, waiting just as she was to see something come through the trees. When two elves finally did emerge, Loghain didn't get a chance to look at them. Malkyn had seen them first, and within a breath, her lips had found his.

The feeling was enough to make him forget about what was coming. It had been several years since his wife had passed on, and probably more years than that since he had kissed her with any real desire. Malkyn's lips were not soft as flower petals, there was not some kind of otherworldly taste as he kissed her. She was a real woman, and all he tasted when he kissed her was the sweat of their travels together, and all he felt on his own lips were those of a strong, capable woman. He would never second guess her again.

She drew herself up to him, and his arms found their way around her regardless of the situation. Something in the back of his head was buzzing like an alarm, like it was all wrong and he shouldn't be kissing her and she was just using him. Maker help him, but in that moment, Loghain wanted to be used. He held her face in both hands, and prayed that the moment was never going to end, no matter who was watching.

"Andraste's Sacred Girdle, woman! When I left you I thought you were going to go out on big adventures, not wind up bedding Fereldan nobility. Shame that, it really is!"

Malkyn parted her lips from his reluctantly. He looked at her, their faces only inches apart, and with some kind of light in her eyes, she told him without speaking that they would need to talk. He knew it without question, and his hand slipped away from her cheeks to let her talk to the elf that had started it all.

"Its none of your business, Felrin."

"Well then maybe it is our business, Bann Malkyn. Have we all missed something since we started traveling to this location in the first place? Have you two known each other longer than we've been lead to believe?" Ser Tybalt didn't seem very happy when he spoke up.

"….No. None of you missed anything. Just-"

"Leave her alone about it. I understand that you are upset about her decision to bring you with her, Ser Tybalt, but that is no reason to scapegoat her for your frustrations. Save it for the darkspawn." Loghain came to her defense quickly, but not before he stood and began moving to the cart.

Maric was right there when Loghain reached his things, and he put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Let me help you. We need to talk about what just happened, I think."

"Maric, no we don't-"

"Yes we do. There's something you're both not saying, and I think you can at least trust me with that," Maric's voice carried over the chatter in the rest of the camp easily.

"What about Fiona?"

"Fiona?.. Well… I think she'll understand.."

The truth was that Maric was halfway looking for a reason not to talk to her yet. He was frightened of the issue, and he knew what Selene's words to him all those days before hand meant. Fiona's Calling was probably knocking on the door step, and he did not want to believe it. He wanted to look at her now, and just see an older version of the woman he had loved since the last time he went into the Deep Roads.

And besides, when was the last time he had really been a good friend to Loghain, anyway?

While Maric helped Loghain with his tent in silence, Selene came to Malkyn's defense when Felrin, Ser Tybalt, and even Ser Cauthrien attempted to fish for information. Selene rationalized it by telling them that it was a very long story, one that neither Malkyn nor Loghain would be willing to explain while they were so worn out. She suggested that they hold their questions till after they had dealt with the darkspawn, and that only seemed to suffice when Hannah screamed for them to 'shut their Maker damned traps' or she would punch them all straight to the Black City. She had a temper on her, especially when it came to her family.

Her decision probably hadn't been the wisest, but that didn't mean that she regretted it in the slightest. The little girl in her squealed with some happiness, remembering all to well how she used to think about him now that she had finally done what she had always wanted.


	8. Visions

This is not a normal chapter, but it is something that I feel needs to be explained before I move any further. It is shorter, a lot shorter, than what I would usually post. A regular chapter will be here by the weekend.

Also, Thursday is my birthday! Leave me birthday reviews!

* * *

_Selene's walk through the Fade was often eventful, but rarely did spirits of those that had passed on reach out to her in order to help those they left behind. Never had one of these spirits been so well known as the one that came to her that night, many nights before she had ever set foot in the palace of Denerim, than the late Queen Rowan._

_The Seeress was genuinely surprised when she rounded a gnarled corner to find herself in a dark cave, lit only by the ethereal form of the Queen well known for her beauty as well as her skills with a blade. She smiled at her, like she knew all along that Selene was going to come to her, and she stepped forward._

_Selene assumed that this place was somewhere that had been incredibly significant to the deceased that stood before her. The stone around her reminded her of that which she saw in the Deep Roads. A small stream passed by her feet that did not seem like natural water. When her bare feet came in contact with it, the water was so cold that she instantly drew herself away. _

"_What is your name, Mage?" Rowan asked._

"_Selene. Is there something I can help you with, spirit, so that you may rest in peace?"_

"_You are very perceptive. Do others come to you so often that you know when another shall ask for your aid?"_

"_No, but I know your face and I know your personal conflicts. I know how you loved your husband's best friend, his Commander, and I know how you wept for him and prayed to the Maker that he would find happiness elsewhere."_

"_Do you see these things when you look at me now?" Rowan was understandably curious._

"_Yes. I can tell many things about people just by looking at them. This is how I know that you are not a spirit native to the Fade. I can see nothing in demons, or good-natured spirits."_

"_I will be frank then. I want you to help Loghain." She got straight to the point, and Selene respected her all the more for it._

"_What can I do for him that you cannot?"_

"_Guide him to someone that will make him happy. Do for him what I cannot do from the Fade. There must be some way for you to do this…"_

"_Is there someone you think can make him happy? Does a woman plague his thoughts much like you did?" Selene took a seat on one of the rocks protruding from the cave wall. _

"…_I think her name is Malkyn Amell. He believes that she is a lot like me," Rowan stepped toward Selene, kneeling in front of her._

_Seer looked at Queen, and a silent exchange took place. Rowan's eyes were determined and fierce, absolutely sure that she could convince Selene to do what she was asking. There was something about that look that made the mage want to help her, if not for Loghain, the surely for Malkyn._

"_Malkyn is my sister's name." Selene spoke absentmindedly._

"_I remember seeing her when she was a little girl. She's not more than twelve years older than my son… I think she is afraid that she is getting too old."_

"_She is afraid of that, there is no thinking to be done. I have walked her dreams with her, both the good and the bad, and I have seen her dream of a faceless man bouncing a baby boy on his knee and my sister smiling at them. I have seen her dream of nothing but emptiness. Surely you have seen Loghain's dreams, if you are so concerned about him."_

"_He dreamt of your sister once. She was fighting in the Provings, oddly enough against me."_

"_There is symbolism in that, I should think," Selene commented._

"_Perhaps. Did she ever fight in the Provings in realtiy?" Rowan seemed eager to hear about Malkyn, and the Seeress thought it only natural._

_She would like to know everything she could about a man that she might hand one of her daughter's off to. Surely it was the same if you were trying to see someone you cared about, even if it was more than familial love, happy._

"_Yes. She was a four-time champion before our father passed on, and the Bannorn was left to her."_

"_Bann Devon had no sons.. That's right.." Rowan whispered," What ever happened to his wife?"_

"_Our mother was a Grey Warden. She twice broke the belief that Grey Wardens couldn't have children, and not long after Malkyn was born, she was called away to perform her duties. I was only told this after I became a Grey Warden myself."_

"_I thought that Grey Wardens weren't allowed in Ferelden until Maric allowed them back?"_

"_Do you really think that they would just walk away? It is part of our motto to be vigilant in peace, after all. That was what my mother was doing, keeping watch over Ferelden's lands in secret." _

_Rowan nodded, finding a measure of truth in Selene's words. Still, she was not there for this sort of idle chatter. She had to know if this strange woman would indeed do what she could not, and physically guide Loghain Mac Tir to happiness._

"_Will you do this for me, though? Can you help him find happiness?"_

_Selene nodded, "If it is the Maker's will that Loghain Mac Tir find happiness outside of his duties to Ferelden, then I will be his instrument. And should his path to happiness, or in the very least peace, lead him to my sister, then I will be all the happier to do this."_

_Rowan's expression already seemed to be that of someone more at peace. This brought Selene some comfort, and she reached out to touch the hand of her Queen._

"_I will do my best, Lady Rowan."_

"_Tell me something, Selene. Do you have children?"_

"_Two girls. Hannah and Juliana."_

"_I love my son, and I wish that I had been able to be there as he grew up. You are very lucky to have been able to do that for your children…"_

"_I was not able to do that for Juliana. I left her to my sister, and my sister was incapable of hiding her magic from the Circle of Magi. She is at the Circle Tower now, but Hannah is with me. She is a strong girl, and brave as anything."_

"_Do you still see their father?" Rowan asked. A small wave of nostalgia washed over her as she thought of Cailan and Maric._

"_No. He is a Templar at the Circle Tower. I'm sure he thinks of me every time he sees Julie."_

_Rowan was sure that this how Maric felt when he looked at Cailan, or for that matter, how anyone thought when they looked at the boy. In the years that Rowan had been alive, she was scarcely ever away from her son. She loved him more than her own life, so much so that people saw him as an extension of her. Now that she was gone, Rowan knew that Cailan was a reminder of her to all those around him, and she wondered how that made him feel._

"_Tell Cailan I love him."_

_Selene chuckled," I'm not sure how he'll feel hearing that from a blind, old bat like me, but I will do this for you as well, Lady Rowan."_

"_Will we speak again?"_

"_I hope so."_

_Rowan, and all of her surroundings, slowly faded into what the Fade usually looked like to Selene. She was back in the Circle Tower, watching Julie read in a corner. It was far to late, and an approaching Templar seemed to be getting ready to send her off to bed. This Templar was a lot younger than any Selene remembered ever seeing in her own time there, and he seemed to have trouble talking to Julie._

_The Seer detected something of a blush on his face when the small mage girl picked up her book and scurried away before she said a single word to him. _

_This was how she liked her visits to the Fade, a silent Vigil over all those she had ever loved, witnessing their daily lives through the memories they relived in their own dream worlds. Soon, she would wake up in a bed that wasn't hers, wake her daughter, and travel to visit her sister at Castle Amell. It had been too long._


	9. Desire and Contemplation

Three larger tents were set up for Loghain, Maric, and Cailan by the small group of guards that had accompanied them. Malkyn refused to do anything but sleep under the stars, and so she set herself a bedroll with the Wardens. The two Knights did the same, and it was with more ease than the King had expected that sleeping arrangements were in order.

Most of the Wardens were carrying on loudly and enjoying themselves. Maric took this as a sign that the darkspawn were not too close, and they would be able to relax that night before going down into the Deep Roads. He caught himself sharing glances with Fiona, and his heart broke every time he looked at her. She seemed aware of it, and would immediately look away. They both knew they would have to talk eventually.

Selene sat with Malkyn, conversing the way sisters do in near complete silence. The Seeress somehow managed to braid her younger sister's hair while the guards and the Knights dealt with putting up the tents. Loghain was almost sure that they were talking about him.

And they were. Truly, there would be no getting away from the subject that night for either of them. Selene's words were council, bordering on encouragement. She approved of Malkyn's strange way of presenting the thought of a romantic relationship to Loghain, but there was so much that the Seeress had left out when she spoke to the Teyrn and the Bann.

She thought about telling Loghain how she too had a dream about the former Queen, how Rowan had begged her to help him. It was something that did not happen often to her, and when the opportunity to do just what the spirit had asked her to do arose, Selene jumped on it without a second thought. She was even more pleased when the opportunity to help her sister came hand in hand.

When Loghain went into Maric's tent, he let out a sigh and took a seat on the blanketed ground. It was much like what it usually was, a large tent held up in the center by a very tall pole, surrounded on all sides by thin layers of cloth to separate the King from the dirt, or whatever would be beneath them.

Maric followed Loghain's actions suit, opening a bottle of their usual wine. He took a good swig, and passed it to Loghain. "To get the conversation flowing, you know. Its hard to get you to talk when your drunk, yet alone when you're sober."

The Teyrn shrugged the comment off and took a deep drink," What do you want to know?"

"About Malkyn? I don't really know what there is to know. No sordid nights chasing her about the Palace when I wasn't looking, right?" Maric grinned at him. Loghain did not like his joke.

"Oh yes, Maric. For every minute Malkyn sat and talked with my daughter during the day I played lover's games with her at night. Of course." Loghain responded sardonically.

Maric laughed it off, "What's really going on then? Tell me I'm not the only one who thinks she a bit like Rowan."

"She is a lot like Rowan."

"Is that the only reason you've been talking to her so much?"

"No. It is easy to talk to her. I can't seem to get away from her."

"Does that bother you, that she's always there?"

"I couldn't be angry at her. I enjoy listening to her talk, and its easier for me to talk to her than it is for me to talk to you."

"Is that so? I might have to hire some Antivan Crow to whack her off so I can still claim to be better at that than anyone else in Thedas," Maric joked.

"…That isn't funny Maric."

"No? I thought it was… Maybe that's why Selene insisted that you come with us."

"What are you talking about?" Loghain looked at him skeptically.

"Selene talked to me in my head, told me this was my chance to say good-bye. Maybe she knew that something was going to happen between you and Malkyn. Did she say anything to you?"

"She said a lot of things to me."

"That's so helpful, Loghain."

The Teyrn shot his friend a harsh glare as he passed the bottle to him," I was getting there, Maric. If you'd shut up for a moment or two maybe I could finish my train of thought."

Maric took the bottle from him, and Loghain continued," She told me that I have always stood alone, and that it was my greatest mistake. She said that I was a coward for wanting to stay away from the Deep Roads… because of my memories."

"Because it makes you think back on Rowan? I wouldn't call you a coward for wanting to stay away from those memories.. Its hard for me not to think about.. Katriel when I think of the Deep Roads. But she didn't say anything about Malkyn?"

"Nothing."

Maric shrugged," Can I ask you one more thing?"

"What?"

"Were you playing along with her, or did you really enjoy it when she kissed you?"

The look Loghain gave him probably would have set a lesser man in stone, but it gave Maric the answer that he wanted.

"Just don't squander it, Loghain. I know you aren't the type to jump on romantic opportunity, but she doesn't exactly have long before she's forced into something she doesn't want…"

Maric sighed, not really sure what else to say, or even ask. So for another thirty minutes, he sat there with his friend and tried to help him sort out his thoughts. After Maric's earlier question, Loghain seemed less and less willing to talk. It took everything Maric could muster to get even a huff of protest from him, and this process only ended after Hannah called out that the food had been finished. They had made no more progress than they had when the wine had been broken out.

When they got outside, Malkyn had several braids in her hair, all gathered up and tied in a pony tail. She didn't dare look at Loghain, and he didn't look at her more than he could help it. To Maric, it was obvious that both of them were trying to avoid the other, and he wondered how long that was going to last.

Felrin's thick Orlesian accent permeated the air as he tried to coax words from Malkyn, and received the same treatment everyone but Selene had since they arrived: Total silence. It seemed that he wanted answers about Loghain, and over dinner, that is all he spoke about. He seemed more angry than jealous, but perhaps the two were moving hand in hand.

Hannah passed out what looked to be bowls of rabbit stew, and she wasn't against giving anyone seconds. Her loud voice carried over all the idle chatter that went on around the camp fire, and each time someone asked for more she responded just as loudly. Loghain decided that Hannah was the life of the group.

Tamyria spoke only once as food was being handed out, and that was to gouge Felrin with some snide remark. None of those there seemed to be a big fan of the man, but he didn't seem to like them much either.

Out of Loghain's peripheral vision, he saw Maric sitting with Fiona. They were clearly talking to each other about something personal, as they were close and ignoring everyone else. He assumed that this was what Selene had meat when she told Maric he had a chance to say good-bye. The King no longer seemed to be squandering that chance.

It was Malkyn, who after many moments of thought, finally stood from her seat next to her sister and moved to sit with Loghain. She sighed deeply before she spoke, like it took her a lot of mental preparation to say the words that came.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"I could tell," Loghain responded.

"If you just want to forget about it, that would probably be easier on everyone."

"Now isn't the best time to talk about this, Malkyn."

"I know, but if I wait all of the stuff I was thinking of saying that sounded good is just going to get washed away if we wait a day or two, and-"

"Now isn't the best time," he repeated himself.

Malkyn thought to protest further, but she swallowed it down with a bite of stew. She did not move from Loghain's side, praying that the regular flow of conversation would somehow arrive. Usually, she was the catalyst for this, but her mind could only process things to say to him about what had happened earlier that day. A glance across the fire revealed Felrin staring at them intently, and in an attempt not to stare back, Malkyn decided to speak up again.

"Duncan decided that Hannah would stay behind at camp with Cailan, since Maric forbid him from going inside with us."

"Is that so?"

"Mhm.. She didn't seem to happy about it. She called him a prissy man-girl with hair prettier than hers."

Loghain caught a flash of a smile upon her face," I think Cailan has better hair than anyone at this camp."

He didn't know why he had spoke these words, but it widened the amused smile on Malkyn's face with ease. It was followed by a mockingly hurt expression, and she returned his small jest.

"Really? And here I thought my braids made me so much more beautiful. I'm going to have to talk to Selene about doing something different before we go down into the Deep Roads to kill horrible creatures and save the world one death at a time."

"I think the braids suit you," Loghain noted.

"Really?…" Malkyn took a moment to fiddle with those that were loose in her face," Thanks.."

"Did Duncan say any more about what's down there?" Loghain tried to move the conversation to something more serious, if only to avoid the looks Maric continued to give him.

"I believe we're suppose to be looking or a nest, a bunch of Brood Mothers or something. Selene told me about them, and they scare me. I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight."

She shivered next to him and sat her bowl down, as if the thought of the Brood Mothers left her appetite dead and her body cold with fear. Malkyn wouldn't deny that the entire thought of being forced to eat the flesh of darkspawn and others or your own kind, while being raped by these darkspawn as well made her so afraid that she would have ran. That is, if she could run.

The man right next to her was probably half of the reason that she fought the urge to take off into the night screaming in terror like a little girl. He made her feel safer, not only because of his extensive battle experience, but because he just had that effect on her.

"Don't be too worried about that. There are many capable people here that won't let such a thing happen to you."

"Honestly, Loghain, I think I would be pretty disappointed if the first child I ever gave birth to was a darkspawn. Then again, I probably wouldn't be sane enough to know the difference if they did catch me and turn me into a Brood Mother. Other than Ser Cauthrien, I'm the only Non-Grey Warden Female here."

"Does it bother you so much?"

"The Brood Mothers?"

"No.. The child thing. Anora told me how you felt about that," Loghain looked at her as he took another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

"There are a few things every little girl dreams about. Most have this great hero figure in their lives that they'd go out of their way to please. Then there is the wedding dream, and finally, the dream of kids. I have accomplished the first, or at least I think I have… but the second and the third seem so far out of my reach. I don't want to give up my dreams of marrying for love, and having children out of love."

"Would you give them up, if only to have a child?"

"….At some point, I think I would. I'm getting there, I really am."

This thought washed away even the fear that had been settled on her face at the thought of Brood Mothers and replaced it with a somber look. Loghain knew as well as she did that she would have to marry before the year's close, if she had any hope of producing an heir for her Bannorn. Her age was already a talked about issue. Thirty-five, unmarried, childless, and certainly not looking for anyone to remedy that. He wondered how she had gone so long like that, seeing as some women could hardly make it out of their teens without carrying a child.

"Were you so intent on your dreams that you would wait until childbirth would almost certainly kill you?" Loghain asked.

"They wavered from time to time, but in Orzammar, I could let them waver and not fear for a moment that I might randomly decide to settle down with someone I didn't really care about. I may love the culture, and the people, but I could never love a Dwarven man. They have more hair on their faces than I have on my head, and Maker knows how much hair anywhere else."

Malkyn shivered in disgust.

"But Felrin, well, I thought I loved him once. I told you that, but what I didn't tell you was how hurt I really was when he walked out on me. I didn't want a damned thing to do with men for a long time. I thought they were demons in disguise, put on this earth just like the darkspawn: to make my life unpleasant and force me to do things I didn't want to do. Sure, there were a couple men that I convinced myself to talk to without a problem.. But none that I could ever fully trust."

"Do you trust me?"

It was a simple enough question, Loghain surmised. The look he got from Malkyn told him that she didn't really know how to react to it, or even knew why he had asked such a question. It took her longer than usual to come up with an answer.

"Yes. I trust you."

Loghain enjoyed hearing those three words more than he thought he would.

Across the fire, Felrin was not nearly as pleased. His lithe fingers passed over a trio of small daggers, sitting in his lap and waiting for poison. He diverted his eyes from Malkyn's smiles and shut his mind away from her laughter. He knew what he had come for. He knew what extra opportunity had come with revenge, and he felt the weight of thirty sovereigns weighing down his coin purse.

He had told himself once that he would never harm her. He had firmly held onto that until he was offered money in exchange for her blood. But really, was thirty sovereigns worth the head of someone you loved? Surely he could live a comfortable peasant's life with such coin, but he would never live like he wanted to on thirty sovereign. He made it a point to ask for more than just a matching amount of gold when he returned to Amaranthine to inform his employer of Malkyn's death.. Then again.. Could any elf live like he wanted to? He shook the thought from his mind and regarded the situation ahead of him.

Not only had the blind mage, damned bitch that she was, delivered to him a target, but she had delivered to him two people he had grown up hating. Felrin stroked the pummel of one of the small daggers, glancing side-long at Fiona and the King.

He huffed to himself. She was better than a human. He was better than a human.. He had always been better than a human, but there he was. His heartbeat was irregular and abound in something like fear and excitement, dread and anticipation. He wanted to kill the new Bann for money, but his heart was telling him not to do it.

It was far too late for his heart to have any impact on his actions. He was not weak in that respect like his sister. He would not let a human break him down, because it would be the end of him. There was no great cause that he killed for, no grand scheme. He would kill for his own gain, and he would kill for the pleasure of having his sister's killers brought to justice and their blood splattered on his face.

There was nothing more exhilarating than that. Not even the most skilled Orlesian whore could give him a rise like that did. And for that reason, if nothing else, he would lay himself down to sleep with prayers for victory and the ability to rise over any challenge that would be presented to him. He prayed that it was the Will of the Maker for three people to die tomorrow, the three people that he had decided to kill.

No matter how dark his thoughts, it seemed that none of those nearby were aware of his true reasons behind volunteering for this. Felrin was thankful for that, and as the chatter grew quieter and the group around the fire dispersed to go to their perspective sleeping places, he laid himself down to sleep. Tomorrow would be the big day. Tomorrow would be his revenge.


End file.
